


Hollow

by pequinessa



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Ballerino!au, I'm sorry this is sad, M/M, Smut, hinted johnyong, this aint pretty fellas im so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 16:50:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16622720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pequinessa/pseuds/pequinessa
Summary: It was on occasions like this that Yuta remembered how painfully in love he was with Doyoung. And it sucked, because most of the time he was able to ignore the way electricity ran through him as if he was made of copper whenever Doyoung touched him.





	Hollow

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't even want to post this because the DoYu tag has been receiving wonderful BUT sad fics and this one is just another sad fic I'M SO SORRY. DoYu deserve better! However, this fic is COMPLETELY self-indulgent and tbh I'm not even sure people will like it OH WELL. I totally hope you do!
> 
> TW: Mentions of unhealthy thougts about weight, please be careful!
> 
> Other than that, enjoy!
> 
> ((also, first time ever writing smut lmao sorry in advance))

The night was beautiful. The sky was clear from clouds, the stars shimmered intensely, and the moon hung heavily above. Not even the ever lit lights of the skyscrapers, which tended to overshadow the natural lights, could drown the luminosity of that particular night.

 

The celestial bodies had gone all out on that particular night, the final minutes of their long lives like an overdue reflection that glittered almost hypnotically. It was almost a religious experience, to be able to watch from afar the burn out of a star that had long died but whose shine kept on travelling across the sky. It was almost poetic, the way people adored to watch the remnant of corpses, of white dwarfs.

 

Not that Yuta actually cared, not with the way Doyoung kept encouraging him to _keep going baby, that’s it, don’t stop._

 

Even if his muscles were trained to withstand hours of long routines, his thighs were burning. The strain from jumping up and down over Doyoung’s cock, however, was nothing compared to the way his lover’s blunt tip kept brushing again and again over his prostate.

 

He was tired and he was running out of breath, sweat dripping uncomfortably down his back and pooling over his eyebrows. However, Doyoung’s loose grip around his waist and the way he called Yuta’s name, with a clipped voice mixed with moans whenever Yuta rocked just _right_ was enough to fuel Yuta’s determination, exhaustion long forgotten under the promise of another overwhelming orgasm.

 

Doyoung liked to work him to the bone, laying underneath him, unmoving. A mere spectator. And Yuta was more than acquainted with putting on shows, with pleasing his audience; moving his hips rhythmically to bring Doyoung pleasure, nonetheless, might have been his favourite show.

 

Yuta’s breathing was shallow, with short intakes of breath, abdomen flexing with every breath he took and with the mere force of holding himself up. His belly was smeared with precum, the white substance dripping every so often from his swollen cock. Yuta didn’t like to touch himself when he was riding Doyoung, mind hyper focused on the way Doyoung’s cock slid inside of him. And even if the latex refrained Yuta from feeling Doyoung properly, the sole motion of his dick going up, up, up inside of him was enough for him.

 

“I-I’m close,” he panted, thighs shaking from weariness and mind clouded. His hands hadn’t moved from where they were gripping at the headboard tightly, and his knuckles were turning white. His muscles had begun protesting long ago, having been positioned over Doyoung for such a long time; delaying his orgasm, again and again, halting just before the peak only to build it from scratch once more.

 

“I can’t- I won’t-,” he kept on panting, unable to form a coherent sentence. Doyoung nodded, aware of what Yuta was trying to say.

 

“Come on, you’ve been so good,” Doyoung encouraged him, suddenly tightening his loose grip on Yuta’s waist. He helped him bounce on top of him once, twice, thrice before Yuta was coming, semen painting his and Doyoung’s chests in white.

 

Yuta was still coming down for his high when Doyoung easily lifted him from his lap and tossed him on the bed, re-entering him once again, fucking him through his post-orgasm bliss. Yuta moaned incoherently and tried to weakly push Doyoung away. He was far too sensitive, but his lover didn’t seem to care as he grabbed Yuta’s wrists with one hand, and brought him closer by the waist with the other.

 

Doyoung kept a strong pace, pushing into his younger lover with intent, all the while praising Yuta for being so good to him, so pretty for him. It didn’t take long for him to come, voice increasing with each thrust until he felt the unavoidable wave of arousal spill. He emptied his load in the condom, hip stuttering until there wasn’t a drop left. Yuta, despite the overstimulation, helped him through his orgasm, slightly rocking against him.

 

Doyoung then pulled out and with practised ease, took off the condom and tied it with a tiny knot before disposing it into the trash can by his bed.

 

Yuta just lay there, feeling boneless and at peace. He loved it when Doyoung fucked him like that, to the point he could no longer think about anything. Anything but _him._

 

“You were great, sweetheart,” Doyoung complimented him, cleaning Yuta’s discharged sperm off of the two of them with the box of Kleenex he always had in his nightstand. “You’re always such a star for me,” he continued, laying beside him an enveloping Yuta in his arms.

 

Yuta just hummed, content. He let Doyoung hold him and turned around to kiss him briefly and sleepily on the lips. Doyoung just smiled at his lover’s antics and kissed him back.

 

“Go to sleep, I’ll wake you up in the morning so you can take a shower. Sounds good?”

 

Yuta nodded, feeling his mind shutting down. Even if it was short-lived happiness, he had Doyoung with him. The sound of his breathing, like a lullaby; the touch of his fingers, like a warm blanket draped around him.

 

For now, it was enough.

 

{-}

 

“I heard they’re gonna pick Yoojon again.”

 

Yuta halted his movements, fingers ghosting over his shoes.

 

“What?”

 

Sicheng just bit his lip, body heavy when he flopped down next to the Japanese male.

 

“I overheard it when I was coming back from the bathroom. The board were having their meeting in one of the classrooms nearby.”

 

Yuta wrinkled his nose and finished taking off his ballet slippers. He winced when his fingers grazed over the currently healing blister on his heel.

 

“I can’t believe this shit. Yoojon made a mistake,” Yuta forcefully removed his other slipper and threw it into his bag. “A goddamn mistake during Partita No 6., are you kidding me? The dance doesn’t last longer than five minutes. I fucking know that song by heart, and still, they’re gonna choose that two-left feet fucker? Fuck him.”

 

Time had provided Sicheng with wisdom when it came to Yuta, a rather explosive and overwhelming dancer, and knew better than to interrupt his friend during one of his rantings. It wasn’t as if he was wrong, though, but Yuta tended to be a perfectionist, and anything below his standards was stripped to the bones by his harsh comments. Standards that worried him a bit sometimes since they weren’t only high for the professional ballerinas and ballerinos, but also for himself.

 

“I can’t believe the Board is going to choose him for the principal body this season. His _cambré_ needs so much work, it’s like he doesn’t even know what flexibility means. God, I hate him.”

 

Yuta turned his head when he felt a warm hand patting him softly on his shoulder.

 

“I know what you mean, but let’s not get mad, okay? We still need to see him at practice and it’s not his fault.” Sicheng offered him a sympathetic smile and then stood up.

 

“I still think he doesn’t deserve to be part of the Principal body.” Sicheng just sighed and helped Yuta up.

 

“And if it were for you, you and I would be the only dancers allowed in the Principal body,” he pointed out.

 

“And Luna,” Yuta added, holding the door open for Sicheng to go out first. “I mean, I’m not saying the current body is incompetent, they’re all professionals. But they were better before when they were Soloists. It feels like now that they have achieved their goal they started slacking off. Not terribly so, but they used to be sharper. And if Yoojon starts slacking off, with his current level, the Principal body will be called an embarrassment.”

 

The hall of the Korea National Ballet’s building had always looked intimidating, with its impossibly high ceiling and big picture windows, big enough for the whole world to see the inside. Its almost colourless walls had always felt incredibly distant, by draining all vibrant colours from the surroundings, Yuta thought the building itself to resemble the very image of a ballet dancer.

 

Intimidating, overwhelming, uptight, _cold_.

 

Yuta had step foot into the building years ago, when he first didn’t know more than two words in Korean. The ballerino remembered bitterly how he had promised to overcome the building’s solitude in order to make it feel more like home. Years after, the task still seemed impossible. He reminisced of the way he was before, way before the unparalleled hostility and competition that ran deep within the institution chipped his shell little by little, leaving it up to him to yield himself again from scratch.

 

“I hate how cold it gets during winter,” he commented. Sicheng nodded, uselessly wrapping his big feather coat around him tightly. “They make us stay way past midnight and nobody even cares about turning up the heating.”

 

Still, the eerie hall, with its polished marble floors and naked walls was better than going outside and facing the unyielding cold of Seoul’s winter.

 

“Is Doyoung coming?”

 

Sicheng’s clipped tone didn’t go past Yuta, but he had learnt to ignore it after one too many fights.

 

“Yeah, I texted him while I was waiting for you.”

 

Sicheng nodded and remained silent, lost in thought. Yuta knew his friend must have been biting his tongue in order not let a comment slip past his lips. Doyoung had always been the spark that ignited Sicheng and Yuta’s biggest arguments with practised ease. Both had agreed not to speak about the topic more than necessary; the aftermath of their fights always leaving a bitter trail before that threatened to crack the fragile stability they had reached in their friendship.

 

“He didn’t want us to take the bus when it’s below zero outside, so he actually texted me first,” Yuta felt the need to add as if defending himself.

 

Again, Sicheng merely nodded.

 

“Sicheng, I-”

 

“Doyoung’s here,” the Chinese man interrupted him, signalling with his chin the black Mercedes Benz that had parked at the end of the building’s endless stairs.

 

Yuta sighed, feeling his phone vibrating in his pocket. Most likely Doyoung alerting him about his arrival. He quickly stole a glance at his friend, heart uncomfortably wrenching when he saw the distasteful look in his eyes.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

{-}

 

“Sicheng didn’t insult me this time at least,” Doyoung joked once he opened the door to his apartment. Yuta knew the other was just trying to lighten the mood from the previous car ride, but he couldn't find it in himself to laugh along.

 

It had taken a lot of effort from Yuta to convince Sicheng to please let Doyoung give him a ride once in a while, at least when it was too cold or too dark. At first, he had declined the offer, but upon Yuta’s sincere worry, he had given in.

 

Yuta had warned Doyoung to please not try to make small talk with Sicheng. However, the first time Sicheng got into his car, Doyoung asked him how he was and how was winter treating him. Sichen had straight up answered, “Please don’t talk to me”, and the embarrassment Yuta felt was nothing short of horrifying.

 

Granted, he had warned Doyoung against Sicheng’s distaste for him; however, that didn’t mean his friend had to be so rude when Doyoung had so kindly driven him all the way up to his apartment.

 

“How was today?” Yuta asked instead of answering, leaving his bag on Doyoung’s couch and turning around to sneak his arms around his neck.

 

Doyoung grinned and hugged Yuta by the waist, placing a soft peck on his forehead.

 

“Awful, but now it’s a lot better since I have such a pretty dancer in my arms,” he answered, smirking.

 

 _Here we go again_ , Yuta dejectedly thought.

 

Pretty, good-looking, attractive, handsome, cute, stunning; Yuta had heard them all. At first, every time Doyoung called him like that, he would blush madly, heart shaking from being complimented so generously. However, over the time, compliments like that only managed to make Yuta uncomfortable in his skin. Not because Doyoung just threw compliments offhandedly, his warm voice and his fond eyes always stood like solid proof of his sincerity; but rather because it made Yuta feel like he had nothing else to offer to him.

 

The pride of being a demi-soloist for the Korea National Ballet lasted very little when he first met the other man. Doyoung was smart, the kind of smart that instead of coming off as irritating, made you want to look up to him. And _how_ Yuta looked up to him. He wasn’t only smart; Doyoung at 27 had his life far more put together than other people of his age.

 

Yuta didn’t like to sell himself short, he was ultimately proud of everything he had achieved in all his 22 years of life; from scraping through life in order to pay his ballet lessons to become part of the Korea National Ballet. Yuta could say he had done pretty well himself, but somehow, being with Doyoung made him feel like it wasn’t enough.

 

_Being with Doyoung._

 

Funny.

 

Were they really together? Yuta didn’t want to be perceived as clingy. He wasn’t really like that, but Doyoung hadn't dropped a hint or anything of the sort that they were...boyfriends. Yuta almost felt childish for thinking something like that. After all, Doyoung was a 27-year-old lawyer with far more important things to think about than if his current partner wanted to make their relationship official or not.

 

Yuta knew Doyoung didn’t sleep with anyone else, Yuta also didn’t. He almost snorted at the thought. As if he _even_ wanted someone who wasn’t Doyoung.

 

“How did it go today?” Doyoung suddenly interrupted his train of thought. “You’re being awfully quiet today, is something the matter?”

 

Yuta shook his head, smile easily coming to life like whenever he had Doyoung’s whole attention.

 

“The same as always,” he answered truthfully. “We are doing the Sleeping Beauty this season, you’ll come to see me the opening night, right?”

 

Doyoung faked an offended expression and Yuta’s light giggles rapidly disrupted the apartment’s silence.

 

“You offend me, sir. Of course, I will.” Yuta then kissed him enthusiastically, like every time Doyoung managed to make his heart skip a beat. Doyoung readily parted his lips, welcoming Yuta’s wet tongue. He brought him closer, hands rapidly sneaking their way underneath Yuta’s sweater.

 

Sighs continuously escaped Yuta’s mouth as Doyoung’s hands grabbed at his flesh hungrily, finger caressing whatever patch of skin they found in their path. Breaking away shortly, Yuta latched onto Doyoung’s neck, tongue tracing invisible patterns all over the expanse of his skin, mouth suctioning ever so lightly.

 

Yuta was tempted to smile when he heard Doyoung’s low grunts, his breathing becoming more shallow as Yuta worked the buttons of his shirt, lips eagerly working on his throat.

 

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” Doyoung’s voice came out raspy, and Yuta would be lying if he said it didn’t make the fine hairs of his neck stand up. Yuta let out a deep whine when the other forcefully pushed his hips against Yuta’s to let him know the exact effect the dancer had on him.

 

Yuta just chuckled sensually and moved his lips from Doyoung’ neck. He kissed him chastely on the lips while he unbuttoned the last button of his shirt. Once he helped removed Doyoung’s shirt, he dropped to his knees gracefully, fingers quickly working on Doyoung’s belt.

 

“I might have an idea,” he answered playfully, looking up with his wide eyes, pupils dilated in arousal. Yuta was about to prove he indeed didn’t need to worry about the stupid ideas swirling in his head. As long as he could blow Doyoung’s mind away each time, there was nothing to worry about.

 

He deserved Doyoung.

 

_He did._

 

{-}

 

“You never told me who you are playing, by the way.”

 

Yuta looked up from where he was texting Sicheng, feet dangling from the stupidly expensive and high chair in front of Doyoung’s breakfast bar.

 

“Sicheng and I are playing two of Aurora’s fairies,” he replied absently, going back to texting.

 

“Oh?” Doyoung suddenly paused his movements, hand still firmly wrapped around the coffee mug. “Aren’t those roles usually given to ballerinas? I mean, in all the previous ballets they were, at least.”

 

Yuta suddenly smiled, a sense akin to proud blooming in his chest. When Doyoung and Yuta started...whatever it was that they had going on, the older had mentioned that he had downloaded the most filmed famous ballets to watch since he wanted to have something in common to talk about with Yuta. To say Yuta felt the air punched out of his lungs when Doyoung confessed this little detail was an understatement.

 

“You’re right,” he started, putting his phone away. “But the artwork director wanted to catch up with today’s ideology of gender roles so she made some changes. Thus, Sicheng, another ballerino, and I are now Aurora’s new fairies.”

 

“If that’s the case, it’s a shame you aren’t playing the Sleeping Beauty,” Doyoung commented all of a sudden, sending a wink Yuta’s way. “You completely look the part.”

 

Yuta’s smile quivered momentarily.

 

“Ah, don't be silly,” he just replied, chuckling after just for effect.

 

Looking at Doyoung now, cooking a simple breakfast for the two, Yuta suddenly remembered when they had just started seeing each other, how the other always took Yuta for breakfast because he was embarrassed about his lack of cooking skills. Yuta wasn't much better, but he knew how to prepare simple dishes with different ingredients; he guessed he had to be thankful for his strict diet since he learnt how to cook just so he could keep up with it.

 

Over time, Doyoung stopped feeling self-conscious over the fact that he only knew how to make scrambled eggs.

 

Yuta could clearly remember the first time they met.

 

Doyoung had gone to the theatre with a couple of friends, at that time one of them was dating one of the ballerinas from the company. Yuta was acquaintances with the girl in question and had helped her clear the path so her boyfriend could go down to the changing rooms to congratulate her.

 

Yuta had warned her that he was only going to let her boyfriend through and that the rest of the group was to wait outside.

 

The tall man with sharp features and big rounded eyes was the first to call his attention. His height made him stand up from the group; after all, Korean men weren't known for their towering heights. The way this mysterious man looked everywhere around with nervous eyes had Yuta’s lips breaking into a smile.

 

The moment they locked eyes, Yuta knew. It was him he wanted.

 

He had tried to make conversation with him but for some reason, the other man barely answered. Yuta was afraid he had made an awful impression and that would have sucked because Yuta was already infatuated with this handsome man.

 

When Yuta saw him again during one of his plays, alone this time, he thought he couldn’t have made such an awful impression after all.

 

It had been rather stressful at first because the moment Doyoung had learnt the other’s  age, he felt too self-conscious to keep fluttering around the younger ballerino. Yuta had reassured him time after time he was an adult and that he wanted Doyung to keep fluttering all around him.

 

Doyoung was stubborn, with his moralistic speech of age difference and all that, but Yuta was more stubborn. It was only five years and Yuta was not going to give up on him, and Doyoung better know that.

 

In the end, Doyoung had relented. Who, in their right mind, could resist Yuta’s charms? That was what the lawyer said the first time they slept together. The Yuta of that time only wished it wasn’t a one-time thing, he truly wanted to keep on meeting with Doyoung.

 

Fortunately enough for him, it seemed the other had taken a liking to Yuta was well.

 

Doyoung was a sweet-talker, Yuta learnt. And not one feature of Yuta went without being praised. It made Yuta shudder, the way the other whispered to him how incredibly attractive he found him, how lucky he was for being able to touch such a boy like him.

 

And it had been a fucking dream at first, to be pampered and showered with so much love.

 

At first.

 

Now the way Doyoung complimented his face and body only,  just made him feel...unworthy.

 

Just how shallow was Yuta that Doyoung couldn’t see anything past his outer shell?

 

 

{-}

 

According to world-renowned architects, in order for a theatre to be considered functional for the sole purpose it was built for —that is, to put up ballets, operas, and orchestras—there are three important factors to be considered.

 

Reverberation time, or the time required for the sound to” fade away”. The sound in an auditorium dies away with time as the sound energy is absorbed by multiple interactions with the surfaces of the room. Thus, this brings us to point number two: materials and decorations.

 

There exists some materials which help the sound ricochet and some which trap it, in order not to let it escape. Velvet is a powerful fabric that acts like a blanket around the sound, wrapping it around its heavy folds in order not to let the sound escape, thus, it refrains the sound from escaping the auditorium in order not to lose volume.

 

Wrought iron, on the other hand, allows the sound waves to travel at a certain speed. The combination of both materials, plus many others, added to the irregularities on the decorations that help the sound travel better than plain surfaces, make for a great acoustic box.

 

The shape of an auditorium is also a key factor, which will help determine the accuracy of the travelling sounds. Among the many shapes, the horseshoe shape is optimal for the purposes an auditorium is commonly thought for. It helps the sound that comes from the stage reach even the last of seats on the upper floors, far as they might be.

 

As a result of the combination of these three factors, microphones and speakers become obsolete in the construction of auditoriums. There is no need for sound amplification since the sound is already perceivable from any spot. Even the slightest of sounds can be heard from all across the room, and one would think that the sound just travelled from the stage towards the seats.

 

Yuta learnt the first time he performed in Seoul’s auditorium, that the sound that came from the theatre seats would also resonate through the air particles until it reached the stage. The tremendous applause the ballet company had received back then had shocked Yuta, his heart beating crazily inside his chest. He had never heard such a clear, loud sound; however much Yuta had grown used to the thundering ovation, it never failed to ignite the last of his nerves, skin blooming in goosebumps.

 

The empty seat that was currently facing him, however, was even louder than the sound of the people clapping their hands and hollering in amazement. It was so much louder, Yuta thought he had gone deaf for he couldn’t even hear the booming noise. The people in front of him were moving their arms in slow motion, soundless, very much resembling characters from a silent movie.

 

How Yuta wished he had gone blind instead of deaf.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Yuta…” Sicheng started, biting his lip worriedly the moment they entered their shared dressing-room.

 

“Save it, Sicheng.” Yuta cut him, not unkindly. “I bet you’re happy about this,” he laughed bitterly.

 

The Chinese dancer furrowed his eyebrows and suddenly grabbed Yuta by the arm.

 

“Don't be like this, you know much I care about you. Even if I don’t like Doyoung, I hate seeing you like this.”

 

Yuta took in his friend’s forehead, wrinkled in worry and his lower lip jutting out in disapproval. He needed to stop taking out his frustration on his only friend, Yuta guiltily thought.

 

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I didn’t mean to say that,” Yuta rushed to apologize, softly cupping Sicheng’s face on his palm.

 

Sicheng nodded, content with the sudden change in his friend’s demeanour.

 

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but,” Sicheng pause dramatically, index finger raised, “Doyoung never misses your performances. Maybe he was drowning in work or something.”

 

Yuta smiled sincerely upon his friend’s effort to bring his mood up, heart quickly filling in with affection. God, he loved Sicheng so much he didn’t know what he would do without him.

 

“I didn’t think I’d live to the day I would see you standing up for Doyoung, I can’t believe this,” Yuta suddenly laughed, rapidly covering his face when Sicheng raised his palm threateningly.

 

“I’m not defending him. I’m just trying to make a point here,” Sicheng explained with a scoff. “Also, I’m sure he-”

 

The obnoxious ringtone coming from Yuta’s bag stopped Sicheng’s mid-sentence, who furrowed his eyebrows. He eyed Yuta’s phone with a look of annoyance that bordered on offense, when the latter took it out of his bag’s pocket

 

Yuta didn’t even look at the caller’s ID and just swiped his thumb over the screen, successfully cutting the incoming call.

 

“Remember to take off your makeup before going to sleep, I know you get lazy once you get home, but it’s bad for your skin. Alright?” Yuta suddenly said, quickly gathering his belongings.

 

Sicheng’s eyes widened, surprised at the sudden rush to leave.

 

“Yuta, wait,” he futilely tried to stop him. “Is Doyoung picking you up?” He asked concerned. No matter how much he disliked him, he was grateful Doyoung was almost always there to take Yuta home since he lived even farther away than him.

 

Yuta shook his head and smiled reassuringly at his friend.

 

“No, no. But I’m leaving first since the last bus leaves in a couple of minutes. Text me when you arrive, okay?”

 

“Are you sure, don’t you wanna crash with me tonight? You know Jae doesn’t mind…” Sicheng trailed off, trying to reach out for Yuta.

 

Yuta just smiled tiredly and moved away, Sicheng’s fingers grazing the hard material of his bag.

 

“Ah, it’s fine. I don’t wanna impose, and I rather sleep on my bed. Thanks anyways, Sicheng.” Yuta then bowed shortly and quickly left the room, before his friend could talk some sense into him.

 

Yuta welcomed the chilly air of the night since it helped him gingered up a bit. He felt bad for worrying Sicheng like that, but he felt like he needed to bolt. He knew he was being too emotional. It wasn’t like Doyoung needed to attend his every performance. It wasn’t as if he had failed him before.

 

Nonetheless, something ugly inside of Yuta reminded him that if there weren’t something serious, he would be entitled to be mad at Doyoung for not attending his opening night without prior notice. That was what hurt the most, the unwelcome surprise of an empty seat with a little sign that read “Kim Doyoung”, spelt in a fancy handwriting.

 

It didn’t even need to be a call, a short text saying, “Sorry, I won’t make it” would have done the trick. The disappointment he felt the moment his eyes took in Doyoung’s absence scared him. It had terrified him. His stomach plummeted and his insides twisted uncomfortably, and it had been such an intense reaction he felt like he was going to lose balance in the middle of his twirl.

 

It was on occasions like this that Yuta remembered how painfully in love he was with Doyoung. And it sucked, because most of the time he was able to ignore the way electricity ran through him as if he was made of copper whenever Doyoung touched him.

 

He groaned in frustration when he felt his eyes watering. He was not going to cry on the bus just because his fuck buddy couldn’t attend his performance. That would be humiliating. He tilted his head up and fanned himself with his cold fingers, trying to subdue his emotions uselessly. He took deep breaths and willed himself to calm down. _It doesn’t matter_ , _come on, it’s not big deal._

Only it _was_ a big deal because the moment he spotted Doyoung’s sleek Mercedes Benz outside his apartment complex, all of the tears he had managed to keep from spilling came rushing back into his eyes.

 

It seemed Doyoung must have seen Yuta approaching from the rearview mirror since he hurriedly came out of the car before Yuta could get into the building.

 

“Yuta, wait,” Doyoung called, quickly meeting Yuta’s figure against the iron gate.

 

Yuta’s heart skipped a beat when he noticed the bouquet Doyoung was tightly holding in his hand, the vibrant yellow roses way too loud to go unnoticed.

 

“I’m sorry, Yuta, I’m sorry I couldn’t go,” Doyoung promptly apologised, extending the carefully crafted bouquet to Yuta. “And I’m sorrier I didn’t tell you beforehand.”

 

Yuta hated that the big ball of anger and disappointment he had been brewing all the way home dissolved into thin air the moment he took in Doyoung’s sincere expression.

 

_Weak._

 

“I know it will all sound like excuses now, but I was in the middle of this meeting, and my phone died and I had to ask for a charger, and-”

 

“It’s fine, Doyoung. You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Yuta cut him off softly, taking the bouquet between his hands. Yellow was such a happy colour, he thought when he looked at the fresh yellow roses. He wanted to be embedded in such a colour if only to soothe his now aching heart.

 

Doyoung was there, apologizing. Wasn’t that what he wanted? Then why did Yuta feel like crying?

 

Doyoung frowned, a concerned look quickly overtaking his sharp features. He took a tentative step towards him and, when he realised Yuta wasn’t going to push him away, he softly took his free hand.

 

“I do have to, Yuta. Of course, I have to. I care about you, and I hate making you upset. You are in all you right to be mad at me, after all, I broke my promise.” Yuta’s breath hitched when Doyoung brought his hand close to him, his thin lips lovingly brushing his knuckles.

 

“I was worried about you, you know. I don’t like it when you take the bus so late. Especially when it’s  freezing,” Doyoung continued, taking another step towards Yuta. He gently curled his fingers around Yuta’s face and tilted his head up. “I’m really sorry.”

 

Yuta clutched the bouquet in his right hand more tightly, grateful that the roses were thornless.

 

“Alright, I was mad,” Yuta gave in, mirroring Doyoung’s grin right away. “Watching your empty seat through all the performance, hoping you would come only for you not to turn up, was awful,” he confessed trying to look away from his lover’s dark eyes.

 

Doyoung sighed and removed his hand from Yuta’s face, quickly embracing the younger in a tight hug.

 

“I’m so sorry,” he said again against the shell of his ear. Yuta reciprocated the hug carefully, not wanting to damage the beautiful roses.

 

“It doesn’t matter now, I’m not mad anymore,” he whispered truthfully. “I’m glad you came.”

 

“I’m glad, too,” Doyoung answered back.

 

However, the ball of anxiety that had begun to form a while ago remained there, unmoving, heavy on Yuta’s heart.

 

 

 

 

 

Doyoung came to all the following performances, although Yuta had told him it wasn’t necessary to attend all of them. Just one was enough. Although he wasn’t going to lie, having Doyoung’s attention on him night after night on the stage made his heart skip a beat, and the fluttering feeling that came with anything Doyoung-related just grew larger and larger.

 

“You were the most stunning tonight, I sincerely don’t understand how you don’t play the main role,” Doyoung told him the moment Yuta joined him at the entrance of the auditorium.

 

“Mmh, you think so?” Yuta asked just to humour him.

 

“I know so,” Doyoung grinned attractively. He leaned in as if he was going to tell Yuta a secret. “Only the most good-looking person should be allowed to play the main role,” he whispered, kissing Yuta’s neck rapidly.

 

Good-looking.

 

Not talented, not skilled, not hardworking.

 

Good-looking.

 

Yuta’s heart squeezed tight.

 

_Here we go again._

 

{-}

 

The car ride was rather quiet, and although Yuta tended to hog Doyoung’s Bluetooth speakers, he had let him play music that the elder chose.

 

“Don’t be nervous, they are all going to love you.”

 

Yuta scoffed from his place on the passenger’s seat if only to mask his agitation

 

“Of course they will. When will your co-workers have another chance to meet a danseur from Korea’s most renowned ballet company?”

 

Doyoung just laughed, momentarily placing his hand on Yuta’s thigh.

 

“That’s what I thought.”

 

The thing was, maybe Yuta was a bit nervous. When Doyoung had first mentioned he wanted to bring him to a business meeting, he had been rather surprised.

_“They are all bringing someone, my co-workers almost always use this opportunity to flaunt their current partners,”_ Doyoung had explained. _“How can I not seize this moment to flaunt you?”_

Yuta had laughed, softly slapping Doyoung and calling him an idiot. The underlying implications of such a statement hadn’t gone pass Yuta, but he had decided to ignore it for the time being. He knew Doyoung didn’t mean ill, he was just...dense.

 

The meeting was being held in one of Seoul’s hot spots, and the firm Doyoung worked for had rented the whole building for the night. It was a bit excessive in Yuta’s opinion, but he didn’t have  to pay for a damn thing so he guessed he was just going to try and enjoy himself.

 

Doyoung’s coworkers wore stern expressions, all dressed to the nines with _scarpe italiane_ that Yuta was sure cost a lot more than a ticket to their best ballet. However, the moment they spotted Doyoung, they all broke into hollers and rapidly shook hands with him.

 

“Doyoung, buddy, I can’t believe the rumours were true. You did come!” one of Doyoung’s co-workers yelled excitedly, passing his arms around his shoulders. The rest all agreed, calling Doyoung all sorts of names jokingly.

 

Doyoung just laughed, allowing his friends to fuss over him.

 

“I know you missed me terribly, but I had a good reason to delight you with my presence tonight,” Doyoung then took Yuta’s hands and pulled him closer to him. “This is Yuta, everyone.”

 

Yuta thrived on the attention, that was a fact. He didn’t work until his feet blisters popped one by one just to have people’s attention for no longer than five seconds. On stage, the awestruck looks were the fuel that pushed him to leave his heart and his body in every performance. It didn’t matter that he didn’t play a lead role, as long as during his moments of glory he could have all eyes on him it was enough.

 

However, the curious looks he was getting from Doyoung’s co-workers felt nothing alike those glances that set his  heart racing and his muscles tensing in anticipation.

 

“Nice to meet you, everyone,” he greeted, bowing a little, trying to appear as polite as possible.

 

When he didn’t receive an instant response, he worried he had made much of an impact. Before he could shrink in himself, ashamed, Doyoung’s friend who had made the comment before, exclaimed, “Well, now I totally understand why you came. How the hell did you snatch this fine man, uh?”

 

The rest of the people laughed, and Yuta wasn’t sure how to answer to that. Out of the blue, the man, quite tall and with an affable smile, leaned closer and in a false whisper said, “Blink twice if you need help escaping from this idiot.”

 

Yuta just laughed out loud, taken off guard by the sudden comment.

 

“Johnny, don't-”

 

“I’ll make sure to blink twice if he gets all boring talking business with you, guys.” Yuta interrupted Doyoung, sending him an amused smile.

 

Johnny and the rest of the lawyers all laughed out loud, cheering on Yuta’s sense of humour. Doyoung just shook his head, smiling warmly.

 

Yuta tried to learn the names of all the people that they were currently sitting with, but the only ones he had managed to remember were Johnny, Doyoung’s close friend, Kun, Hyoyeon, Yuri and Sehun. The latter in particular made Yuta fidget a bit in his seat with the way he looked at him. It was as if his piercing eyes were trying to analyse him, to see if he would make a mistake in his speech, in his table manners.

 

Yuta didn’t have a clue what was his deal with him, but he tried to ignore his intense stare, rather focusing on Johnny and Hyoyeon’s hilarious anecdotes. He liked them the best out of the other people at the table, they were kind to Yuta and explained things to him quickly whenever somebody started talking about matters he didn’t quite understand.

 

They also hyped him up the most when he revealed that  he was one of the current danseurs for Korea’s best ballet companies. He could sense Doyoung’s pride oozing out of him when he became the focus of the table’s attention, all eager to ask questions about his profession.

 

It was...weird. He didn’t feel uncomfortable per se, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something wrong with the whole deal. Something wrong with him, maybe. Why couldn’t Yuta just let go and enjoy the evening? Inside his shoes, his toes hadn’t stopped curling and his lungs felt heavy with every intake of breath.

 

Sehun’s scrutinizing stare didn’t help him relax, either. Yuta was half tempted to lean over Doyoung to ask if he had also noticed this. The worst part was that when Yuta met Sehun’s eyes, the other man didn’t look embarrassed at all, he held Yuta’s stare with half a smirk drawn on his face.

 

Doyoung was having the time of his life, Yuta noticed, affection rapidly taking over his own worries. He had laughed the whole evening, eyes crinkling up and thin lips stretched widely over his teeth. Yuta didn’t want to bother him with his own stupid insecurities, so he decided it was best to just endure Sehun’s odd behaviour and his own distress.

 

“I’m going to the bathroom, okay?” he suddenly said to Doyoung, before standing up and excusing himself.

 

Fortunately, the bathrooms were on the second floor, so it gave Yuta the possibility to stretch a bit his legs, numbed by being still much more longer than usual. He quickly made his way upstairs, taking care not to run into anyone.

 

Once inside, he went straight to the sink and splashed some water on his face in an effort to clear his mind. He remained there, in front of the sink with his head tilted down so the droplets of water didn’t wet his clothes. Yuta evened his breath, slowly inhaling and exhaling even slower.

 

_I’m fine._

 

“Are you okay?”

 

The sudden voice startled Yuta, who alarmed looked up, eyes quickly falling onto Sehun’s figure.

 

_Great._

“Yeah, thanks.” He answered shortly giving him a tight smile.

 

“Here,” Sehun took the towel that hung from the hook on the wall and offered it to Yuta. Sehun looked rather intimidating under the bathroom’s dim lights, with his towering height and his strong features. Yuta could feel his pulse increasing by the second, gut slowly twisting uncomfortably.

 

No matter how much he disliked the other man, he didn’t want to come across as rude so he extended his fingers, carefully accepting the towel.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Even when he was drying his face, making sure to gather the droplets in his hairline, he could feel Sehun boring his eyes into him. Had Sehun followed him to the bathroom on purpose? The mere thought scared Yuta a little. Just what was his business with him?

 

“Let me,” Sehun offered when Yuta tried to hang the towel back on the hook.

 

“It’s fine,” Yuta dismissed Sehun’s extended hand and hang the towel back. He gave himself one last glance over the mirror and made his way towards the exit.

 

The moment he tried to open the door, however, Sehun put his hand on top the door, above Yuta’s head, effectively blocking the exit.

 

“Why so eager to leave?” The other man asked, smiling innocently as if he wasn’t trying to corner Yuta in the bathroom.

 

Yuta took a step back and gave Sehun a hard look. So Sehun _did_ have a problem with Yuta. Alright, then he was going to stay and clear whatever misunderstanding Sehun had with him.

 

“Is there anything you want to tell me? You haven't taken your eyes off of me in the whole dinner, is something the matter?” Yuta asked the other, trying to cut to the chase. He was no newbie to unwanted confrontations and he was not going to let the other man just ruin the night for him.

 

Sehun whistled, crossing his arms and resting his weight comfortably on the door.

 

“Bold, aren’t we?” He chuckled and then just grinned at Yuta. “Nice earrings, by the way.”

 

Yuta’s hand instinctively shot up to the crosses Doyoung had gotten for him as another apology present for missing the Sleeping Beauty’s opening night.

 

“I helped Doyoung pick them, you know?” Sehun averted his eyes from Yuta’s to look at his polished nails. “You’re wearing a little fortune on you, I hope you are aware of that.”

 

Yuta’s jaw hurt from how much he was clenching it, body tensed.

 

“He didn’t tell me who they were for, I didn’t ask either. Imagine my surprise when I saw you walking into the building wearing them.” Sehun suddenly looked up again, back straight once again. Yuta held his gaze when the other took a step closer to him, getting into his personal space.

 

Sehun’s finger carefully caressed his right earring, and he chuckled when Yuta turned his head the other way about.

 

“They suit you,” the other commented off-handedly. “Now, when Doyoung paid for them I couldn’t help but be curious. Who was on the receiving end of such an expensive gift?”

 

Yuta had no idea what Sehun was trying to get at, he was just hoping the other would quickly stop beating around the bush. He felt completely distressed being in the other’s presence.

 

“When I saw you walking in with him, I understood. I don’t blame him for spending so much on someone like you,” Sehun’s eyes were carefully roaming around his face and Yuta had never been more tempted to just close his fingers into a fist and ram it into the other’s face.

 

“Now I wonder, is it enough for you?”

 

The unexpected question threw Yuta off, and the sudden change in his demeanour must have been evident for Sehun chuckled lowly, pearly teeth coming into view in a tiny smile.

 

“What I’m trying to say here is,” Sehun then grabbed Yuta by the jaw softly, tilting his head up. He leaned over and whispered over Yuta’s lips, “Whatever Doyoung is...providing you with, I can provide for you a thousand times more.”

 

The blatant innuendo of the offer stunned Yuta.

 

_What?_

“A pretty thing like you sure deserves only the-”

 

Sehun recoiled in disgust, a heavy gob of spit dripping down his cheek.

 

“I don’t know what you, sick fuck, think our relationship is like, but it’s none of your business.” Yuta spat, nostrils flaring. “And don’t even try to compare your despicable self with Doyoung, you have nothing on him. _Nothing_.”

 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Sehun asked, venom dripping from his voice, face contorted in an ugly scowl.

 

“Next time you wanna call me a damn whore have the goddamn balls to tell it to my face instead of spitting shit like that,” Yuta just answered, shoulders roughly colliding against Sehun’s when he made his way out of the bathroom.

 

When Doyoung asked him later why he had taken so long Yuta just answered he had gotten lost. He didn’t want to tell him about his episode with Sehun, didn’t want to make him feel bad.

 

Yuta’s heart melted the moment he mentioned he was tired and Doyoung quickly said goodbye to everyone, ignoring all his friend’s pleads to just stay a little more.

 

Doyoung kept talking animatedly about how much fun he had had that evening and how he had missed just hanging out with his friends and co-workers. He thanked Yuta for joining him as well and asked him if he had had fun, too.

 

Thing is, things couldn’t have gone worse for Yuta’s fragile mind. It had been fun in the beginning, meeting new people was always exciting and he loved flaunting that he was a danseur. The Sehun incident, however, was far from being “fun”. It embittered him, how something like that had managed to ruin the whole night for him.

 

As sad as it sounded, Yuta had experienced dealing with creepy men who thought they could have their way with him. It was nothing new, and somehow Yuta had become numb to such insinuations, easily dodging hands and putting men in their place. It sucked, and the danseur knew it shouldn’t be something regular, but there was little he could about it.

 

So no, it wasn’t Sehun trying to seduce what had upset him, but rather how the other man had assumed he was Doyoung’s...fuckboy. Not partner, not boyfriend. Fuckboy.

 

Did the others also view Yuta like that? Did they look at Yuta and believed he was a gold-digger? Didn’t Doyoung and he look like a couple? The bitter truth made Yuta’s insides churned painfully.

 

They weren’t a couple, but somehow Yuta had deluded himself into believing other people assumed as much. Yuta wanted to believe that when others turned their eyes to them, they saw a loving couple, what with the way Doyoung always kissed Yuta’s hands affectionately and Yuta absorbed every word Doyoung spoke as if he was being read the bible to eternal happiness.

 

Having his little fantasy shattered so brutally was bound to make a dent —another dent, into Yuta’s heart. Being mistaken as Doyoung’s sugar baby pained him excruciatingly. Yuta was sure if people looked closely enough into his eyes, they would undoubtedly see the eyes of a man in love, and if that wasn’t enough of a sign maybe it was because Doyoung’s eyes looked nothing like that.

 

How disappointing. He wasn’t safe nor happy even in his little bubble.

 

However, Doyoung looked so excited, so happy about the whole deal, and Yuta loved the man next to him too much not to try and please him. So he nodded, forcing a smile and telling Doyoung how nice his coworkers were and that he had had an amazing night.

 

Back in Doyoung’s apartment, Yuta and Doyoung were quick to discard each other clothes, quick to hungrily kiss each other, quick to fall into bed together.

 

Usually, fucking with Doyoung always managed to shut his thoughts off, always made him give Doyoung his undivided attention. Still, the only thought in Yuta’s mind while Doyoung was enthusiastically pounding into him was Johhny’s words.

 

_“It’s funny to meet you, Yuta. Doyoung never told any of us about you.”_

 

 

{-}

 

 

_Yuta._

_Yuta._

_Yuta._

 

“Yuta,” Sicheng whispered, softly shaking his shoulder, bringing him out of his stupor.

 

Yuta blinked, taking into the face of the Korea National Face director in front of him, who was currently looking at him with an amused expression on her face.

 

“S-sorry, Director. I beg your pardon?”

 

When she smiled slightly, it only helped add to the overwhelming pile of emotions Yuta was currently going through. Her face, always tight in a stern expression, was void of any usual hostility. Her eyes seemed to loosen up and her shoulders relax, lips forming stretching into the tiniest of smiles.

 

“The Royal Ballet will like you to be part of their ballet company, Mister Nakamoto. You and Mister Dong.”

 

_What._

 

“The reason why none of you was chosen to be part of the Principal Body this year was that, unbeknown to you, during the auditions for Sleeping Beauty our friends from London decided to pay us a visit.”

 

Sudden flashes of spotting two unknown figures sitting beside Director Song appeared in Yuta’s mind. At that moment, he had paid no attention to them, mind hyper focused on the piece he was to perform.

 

“After auditions were over, Director Kozlov and Miss Archer told me they had their eyes on two of my danseurs, that’d be the two of you. We discussed some things regarding the future of my Principal Body and they asked me not to put any of you there, even though you were both fit for the part. In case they were to scout the two of you, I’d be left without new additions, so they suggested I pick another member that maybe needed some extra training but that eventually would make it to the team. They weren’t one hundred percent sure, so they came to the opening night and the first whole week.”

 

Director Song waited for the information she had just shared sink in, and when she saw that her two ballerinos imperceptibly nodded their heads, she continued.

 

“When they made sure none of you slacked off in any of the performances, they arranged another meeting with me. Director Kozlov immediately asked to meet the two of you, but I refused. I wanted you to be in top shape for the remaining performances and I also wanted to be the first to speak with you.”

 

Yuta had never managed to have a good relationship with the director of the ballet company. Back in his old ballet company in Japan, he had had more liberties when it came to performing. His teachers had always encouraged their students to strive for their own style, as long as they never strayed away for the basics of ballet, that was.

 

It had been a huge an unwelcome surprise when he first arrived in Korea, to realise things couldn’t be more different. Director Song was incredible, a whole unachievable level of professional in Yuta’s eyes. She had left The Royal Ballet and came back to Korea to start her own ballet company, which had flourished under her demanding hand and sharp eyes.

 

No matter how much Yuta had her in a pedestal, however, she was exactly the type of teacher Yuta had always resented: one to cut all their danseurs with the same pair of scissors.

 

“It’s clear they saw something in you I hadn’t noticed,” she suddenly said, addressing Yuta. “Or maybe I did but I decided it wasn’t what I was looking for.”

 

Her bold statement sent shivers down his spine and he willed himself not to avert his eyes.

 

“Mister Dong, you’re the exact type of ballerino I’d love to be my principal soloist, and even if I acknowledge The Royal Ballet, I’d love for you to stay. I know this company could be ten times bigger were I to make you my next soloist.” Yuta felt something akin to jealousy mixed with pride when the took a quick glance towards his friend. It was clear Sicheng was exactly what Director Song looked for in her danseurs. Tall, elegant, with precise forms and a stoic face whenever he danced. A controlled ballerino who never missed a beat and weighed nothing when he twirled all over the stage.

 

“As for you, Mister Nakamoto,” Yuta glanced back to where Director Song sat behind her polished ebony desk. “I’m not going to pretend we’ve always been in the best terms, that’d be a hypocrite of me. However, I’ve never once thought of you as a bad performer, quite the contrary. We’ve had our differences, but I believe maybe you can bring something new to this company were you to stay.”

 

Even if Yuta recognized the sincerity in her voice, he didn’t believe she was doing a good job at trying to make him stay.

 

“It’s an honour that The Royal Ballet wants to scout the two of you, and I think I’m entitled to feel proud. You two have flourished under this company, and regardless of your decision, I hope you never forget everything you’ve learnt here. Director Kozlov wants an answer by the end of the week and so do I. Come see me before Sunday with a decision taken, understood?”

 

Sicheng and Yuta both nodded rapidly, still stunned by the unexpected proposal.

 

“Good. You're dismissed.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I’ll go if you go.”

 

Sicheng’s answer when Yuta had asked what he was planning to do had caught Yuta off guard. The Japanese ballerino had been sure Sicheng would like to stay, he was sure he could achieve incredible things under Director Song’s direction.

 

“Please, Sicheng, think about your future. She offered you to be next principal soloist, Sicheng there is no greater honour, no greater status within this company.”

 

“There’s nothing for me to think. I’m not doing this out of a heart impulse, I’ve always thought this. Were you to be scouted by another company ballet, I would follow in a heartbeat. You’ve always been the most intuitive out of the two of us, you know what’s best for you, and for me as well. If you think we’ll grow even more under The Royal Ballet’s direction, then I’ll trust you.”

 

Yuta bit his lip, unable to form a coherent sentence. Sicheng, despite being his best friend, had never been too open with him. Yuta loved him regardless; he didn’t care the other wasn’t as affectionate as he was, didn’t care he didn’t reciprocate Yuta’s overwhelming attention.

 

He was stunned, nonetheless. This had been the most open the other had been with him, and it left him kind of breathless.

 

“I know you, better than you think. You’re my best friend, after all, Yuta. And you’ve proved to me time after time that you have a good sense of achievement, that you know what you want, that you know where you are going. When I first came I wasn’t as passionate, and I could have never made it this far without you. Please don’t think I’m making this decision just because I love you. I know what I want as well, now at least, and I know that you’ll help me achieve my goals.”

 

Sicheng yelped when Yuta suddenly hugged him tightly.

 

“Sicheng, you absolute sweetheart, love of my life,” Yuta said, nosing Sicheng’s neck with affection. “I didn’t know you loved me this much.”

 

The Chinese danseur rolled his eyes, kind of regretting his words a bit. Nonetheless, he humoured his friend and hugged him back, softly patting his back. Sicheng thought he at least deserved that much.

 

“Your only dumb decision remains Doyoung,” he teased him, expecting Yuta to just push him away to scowl at him.

 

“I know you want me to stop hugging you but nothing can ruin this beautiful moment so just accept it, Sicheng.”

 

“Well, at least I tried.”

 

 

{-}

 

“Lately, you’ve been looking prettier than ever, I didn’t know that was possible.”

 

Yuta smiled sincerely at the compliment. Doyoung had noticed his efforts and that sparked a tiny flame of happiness within him.

 

Yuta knew he looked good, after all, he was putting effort into it. If he was to leave for London and leave a blank space next to Doyoung, he would make sure his spot would never be entirely fitting for someone else. Maybe Doyoung wasn’t in love with, he had come into terms with that. Even if at first he would surely miss him, eventually he would move on.

 

Yuta wouldn’t.

 

So he intended to leave a strong impression behind for Doyoung to remember. To create an image that anyone who wasn’t him would be subpar. To widen his shoes in order not to let anyone fill them. Perhaps it was egoistical, narcissistic, borderline crazy.

 

He didn’t mind a bit.

 

The sole thought of Doyoung moving on past him was scary enough to have him shaking under the shower every night.

 

“Maybe I’ve always been this attractive and you’re just noticing now,” was the playful reply.

 

Putting effort meant waking up earlier than ever to go meticulously through his beauty routine. Meant paying exorbitant amounts of money for creams and makeup. Meant being always dressed to the nines. Meant being pleasant and witty to charm Doyoung. Meant giving him mind-blowing sex. Meant losing weight.

 

Doyoung chuckled, kissing Yuta’s lips.

 

“Maybe,” he conceded.

 

Doyoung might have been slightly aware of Yuta’s sudden change, might have been easy to fool, to make his thoughts stray far from his change in appearance. Sicheng, on the other, has been impossible to lie to.

 

His Chinese friend was scarily perceptive and the moment Yuta showed up at practice with traces of BB cream on his face, he immediately called him out.

 

“Why on earth did you put on makeup if we are going to sweat like pigs?”

 

The thing was, there was nothing wrong with wearing makeup. Many of the danseurs showed up wearing it and it wasn’t a big problem. The problem was that every time somebody showed up all dolled up, Yuta would whine about how useless it was to wear makeup to do any kind of exercise.

 

Yet there he was, face caked with foundation for a 4-hours practice.

 

Of course, Yuta remained silent, aware he couldn’t lie to Sicheng nor could he come up with a reason that didn’t sound stupid enough. Upon his friend’s silence, the taller ballerino just frowned, lips jutting out in a disapproving manner.

 

“Sicheng, wait, it’s not-”

 

“Save it, Yuta. I don’t know what’s going on in that mind of yours but Doyoung isn’t here.”

 

Yuta felt guilty, disappointing his friend like that. However, that time around there was something else laced with his usual shame. It was anger.

 

Why, oh why, pray tell, did Sicheng matter so much what Yuta did or didn’t do with Doyoung? What did he do for Doyoung? It wasn’t any of his business, yet time after time, he had managed to make him feel awful about the decisions he took for the sake of Doyoun-. For the sake of his relationship with Doyoung.

 

It wasn’t only the makeup what Sicheng had taken notice of.

 

It was the brand new clothes, shiny accessories, his new tints.

 

Instead of bringing the subject up, Sicheng much preferred just staring judgmentally at his friends, and God, how much Yuta wanted for him to just speak up. He couldn’t take any of Sicheng’s glare any longer.

 

He had never understood Sicheng’s hatred for Doyoung. Actually, in the beginning, he was happy the guy Yuta was deeply interested in reciprocated his affection. Soon after, however, his behaviour changed. He would glare at Doyoung, ignore him, and tell Yuta how much of an idiot Sicheng thought the other man was. Yuta had never asked the reason behind, and it seemed Sicheng wasn’t keen on letting him know anytime soon.

 

He had embraced the hostile attitude and made sure his lover and his best friend never crossed paths. It did pain him; he wanted nothing more than for her two favourite people to get along. But of course, things never went the way Yuta wanted.

 

“Yuta, have you been eating properly?”

 

Sicheng asked once when the two of them went out to eat together. As ballerinos, it was nothing new that they keep a healthy diet and lower their carbohydrate intake. The two were more than dedicated to their lives as dancers, so they were used to the sacrifices ballet required. However, that did not mean they starved themselves or stopped themselves from the rare sweet treat.

 

“You’ve been looking skinnier with each passing day, is something the matter?”

 

And how could Yuta tell his best friend that he was, indeed, trying to lose weight? The reason why, Sicheng would never understand. Because he wasn't completely sure why either.

 

Skinny was pretty, he bitterly thought, recalling how all of Doyoung’s co-workers had been amazed at his weight, praising him for being skinny, telling him how attractive he was.

 

Doyoung should remember Yuta at his best, and his best was a couple of pounds away from his current weight.

 

“Please tell me it has nothing to do with Doyoung and everything to do with stress.” Sicheng’s hawks-eyes rapidly rested on Yuta’s eyes, piercing, daring him to lie to his face. And Yuta was sure that even if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to do it.

 

“Did he ask you to lose weight?”

 

Yuta’s eyes immediately widened, perplexed.

 

“No! No, God, no. Doyoung would never ask me that,” he rushed to explain.

 

“But you _are_ losing weight because of him,” Sicheng stated, taking a sip of his bottle of water. His cold tone sent shivers down Yuta’s spine, skin suddenly pricking. How much Yuta wanted to shrink under his friend’s judgemental tone.

 

“You don’t understand,” Yuta said, almost pleading. “I just want him to remember me.”

 

Maybe it sounded better in his head because it sure sounded downright stupid when spoken out loud.

 

“I can’t believe this.”

 

Sicheng’s usual soft voice had nothing cotton-like in it anymore, but he didn’t raise his tone. He was aware they were in a public space, a small restaurant where they ate all the time, and despite being it quite late at night, there were still people sitting a couple of tables away from them.

 

“Of course, I don’t understand. How can you even ask for my comprehension? You’re being so fucking stupid and all because of that goddamn man. Has he even given you something more than a good fuck and a couple of expensive gifts? Yuta, don’t do this to yourself, you’re smart, you’re better than this.”

 

Yuta suddenly felt a sharp pain in his heart, hearing the words coming out from his best friend’s mouth. He had trusted Sicheng with his fears, he couldn’t believe the other was actually using it against him.

 

Suddenly, he didn’t feel ashamed, he was borderline furious. How dare Sicheng judge him? How dare Sicheng use his fears against him? How dare he betray his trust?

 

“I can’t believe you, Sicheng. I trust you with my everything and this is how you treat me? Really? Are you hinting I am his goddamn fuckboy, uh?”

 

Sicheng’s eyes flashed, just as angry as Yuta.

 

“I never said that, don’t put words in my mouth, Yuta.”

 

“But you think so, I can hear you clear and loud, Sicheng. Whenever Doyong comes into the conversation, whenever I mention him, it’s like a goddamn sign all over your face that screams what you think of my relationship with him.”

 

“And tell me, is it any different from that? Uh? Your relationship? How is it different? Does he tell you how much he loves you?”

 

And when Yuta just looked at him baffled, hurt swirling in his eyes Sicheng knew he had hit a sore spot.

 

“He doesn’t, and guess why that is. Yuta, please wake up, I love you and I want what’s best for you-”

 

“You love me,” Yuta interrupted him with a sneer, “you love me? Yet you’re here, hurting me again and again? Sicheng, I’m very well aware of my position, I don’t need you to remind me of that. I never asked for anything other than your support, but I guess it was too much to ask.”

 

“Yuta, you’re not being objective, you’re just starved for love and you will take anyone who remotely looks at you.”

 

It seemed the statement stunned the two men, for different reasons.

 

Sicheng widened his eyes, hand shooting across to take Yuta’s in his.

 

“Wait, no, I didn’t mean that.”

 

“Wow,” Yuta gulped in an effort to swallow the lump in his throat. “Just, wow, Sicheng. I didn’t know you thought that about me.”

 

“No, I don’t think that, I just-”

 

“Save it, Sicheng. I thought we were friends. Guess I was wrong,” Yuta suddenly stood up and grabbed his bag. “I guess this conversation is over. I’m glad to know you’ve always felt that way about me.”

 

Sicheng stood up as well, desperation written all over his face.

 

“Yuta, please, no, I didn’t mean to say that. It came out wrong, I don’t believe that, I’m sorry, I- “ the ballerino tried to stop Yuta from leaving, but the other just swatted his hand away.

 

“Bye, Sicheng.”

 

{-}

 

“Nakamoto Yuta.”

 

Yuta gulped, feeling his palms starting to sweat. He knew he was screwed, there was no way Director Song would let him off the hook. He also owned a weighing scale, he knew where he stood better than anyone else.

 

“Take off your slippers and step onto the scale, please.”

 

He could feel Sicheng’s eyes burning holes in the back of his head, the younger had been waiting for this moment.

 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

 

The moment the numbers appeared in the tiny digital screen, Director Song fixed Yuta with a hard glare.

 

“You are to stay after I’m done weighing everyone else,” she whispered coldly into Yuta’s ears.

 

The danseur nodded curtly, rapidly putting on his slippers back and joining the group of danseurs who had been weighed already.

 

Yuta’s anxiety increased with every person that went through the weighing procedure. The room felt cold and Yuta felt his toes going numb. There were only three people left and Yuta’s shirt was already soaked with perspiration.

 

Sicheng was the last to go, and after Director Song’s nod of approval, she addressed her ballet company.

 

“Those who barely made the cutting line, bear in mind we have another weighing session next month. You have time to improve your weight. For those who didn’t make it, there will be extra dance practices and a new meal plan. Bear in mind there will be severe consequences for those who don’t make it next time.”

 

After making sure her words dug deep enough into her danseurs, the ex-ballerina continued.

 

“Dismiss.”

 

Yuta remained seated where he was, watching forlornly as all of the other dancers left the room. Sicheng made an attempt to stay but Directo Song quickly kicked him out.

 

“Mister Nakamoto, I’m sure you know you’re walking on thin ice right now.”

 

Yuta nodded, standing up when Directo Song asked him to.

 

“You’re not a ballerina, you’re a ballerino.” She proceeded, cold eyes staring intensely into Yuta’s own frightened ones. “You ought to weigh more than a ballerina because it’s your job to make her fly all over the stage. No ballerina would want to be partners with a twig like you.”

 

Yuta winced at her words.

 

“Yuta, this is a serious matter, I don’t know if all the stress from being transferred to London is getting to you or what, but you could lose your scholarship. If you think I’m harsh just wait and see how the London Ballet chews up a skinny boy like you.”

 

Director Song waited a bit to see if Yuta had something to say if he would defend himself. Yuta only lowered his head, ashamed. When she was met with silence she sighed.

 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but if you don’t make it to the ideal weight by next month rest assured you won’t be going anywhere. Nor staying.”

 

The sudden threat made Yuta looked up. Suddenly the world started spinning.

 

Was she saying she would throw Yuta out? Yuta was _ballet_. Strip him out of his slippers and thighs and you would meet a never-ending void of nothing. Yuta was nothing, no one, under his ballerino costume.

 

The thought, albeit sombre, was true.

 

Yuta was hollow.

 

“I expect nothing short of excellence from my ballerinos. I can work with a few pounds more, but I can’t and I refuse to work with somebody who will snap like a stick under the slightest of weighs. Am I being clear enough?”

 

Yuta nodded, throat too dry to let any word escape.

 

“Fix yourself,” was all she said before dismissing him as well.

 

And maybe the overwhelming news had affected Yuta in quite a bad way, for he sworn he heard her say, “please” before slamming the door shut.

 

{-}

 

“Have I ever told you that your waist is one of my favourite things about you?”

 

Of course, it would be something about Yuta’s body that Doyoung loved.

 

Yuta smile fakely, with practised ease, from his place on Doyoung’s lap. They were supposed to be watching a movie but the moment the older man started caressing Yuta’s thigh not so innocently, the movie was forgotten in favour of a heated make-out session.

 

Doyoung’s long fingers were wrapped around Yuta’s slim waist, digits ever so slightly stroking his skin.

 

“It’s just...so tiny,” he marvelled, extending his fingers and trying to make them meet over Yuta’s skin. “You’d look amazing in a corset.”

 

Yuta giggled when he felt Doyoung’s cock twitching in interest beneath him.

 

“Maybe I’ll buy one and put on a little show for you,” his sensual whisper was accompanied by a painfully slow lick over Doyoung’s ear shell. “What do you say, mmh?” he kept on going, ever so slightly rocking on Doyoung’s lap.

 

“That would be...interesting,” the other answered, dazed. However, when he traced his fingers all over Yuta’s ribs he frowned.

 

“Aren’t you a bit skinny? I mean, I don’t mean to intrude or anything but...I think you’re looking thinner than before. Is something the matter?”

 

Yuta smiled reassuringly at him and guided Doyoung’s hands to his bottom instead.

 

“It’s just the stress from the upcoming play, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before.”

 

Doyoung didn’t look too convinced and he pressed on, “Are you sure? I hope you’re not skipping any meals, you know how important is for you to be always full of energy.”

 

“Don’t worry, silly. I’ll be back to my old self once we start with the play, you’ll see.” Yuta kissed him then, shutting him up for good. And when he rocked against Doyoung’s hard-on, moaning mid-kiss, he knew his sudden loss of weight was the last thing on Doyoung’s mind.

 

The lawyer kissed him back, hard, grabbing Yuta by the hips and forcefully rocking their hips together, hands already trying to undress Yuta from his shirt.

 

And the ballerino, internally, sighed of relief.

 

It was fine, Doyoung was so easy to distract, so easy to assure that his whole world wasn’t coming apart.

 

When he was with Doyoung, it was just as easy to forget the constant hunger in his stomach, the fact that he no longer spoke to Sicheng, that he might lose not only his scholarship  but also his spot in the company, that he was slowly losing himself.

 

But it was fine because as long as he had Doyoung’s attention, it was worth.

 

Right?

 

 

{-}

 

Yuta could tell something was wrong since he had woken up.

 

Dragging his body to the shower had been almost exhausting and he had suddenly grown dizzy under the water, legs trembling from the sudden wave of nausea. He had nothing he could vomit, so it had been bile what had stained his otherwise pristine sink.

 

He decided against drinking coffee, afraid the moment he had something in his stomach he would lurch forwards in the middle of the streets and empty his poor excuse of a breakfast.

 

Focusing during practice had proved to be quite a challenge. His head kept spinning and he would excuse himself more often than not to the bathroom. Even if Sicheng was still mad at him, it seemed he had noticed his state given that he had approached him, forehead wrinkled in worry.

 

“Are you okay? You look a bit pale,” Sicheng awkwardly said, hand hesitant in the air, as if wasn’t sure whether he could touch Yuta or not.

 

It warmed Yuta’s heart to see Sicheng worrying about him. Even if he had said some painful things, he was never mad at him. Yuta could never. He wasn’t the happiest when Sicheng said all those things about him, but not because they were false accusations, but rather because deep down Yuta had known all along.

 

However, he had tried to maintain his distance with the Chinese male. He didn’t want Sicheng to look into his eyes and see how empty they looked.

 

“I’ve been better,” he admitted, aware there was no way he could fool his best friend. “Sicheng I-”

 

“Yuta, you’re next!” one of their choreographers suddenly said. Sicheng and Yuta both turned their heads towards the other danseurs, waiting in line for Yuta to join in.

 

“Maybe you should excuse yourself and get some rest.”

 

Yuta did smile this time, affection oozing out of his every pore. The two of them knew that you could as well beg for punishment were you to excuse yourself for leaving practice. It was nice, however, to know Sicheng still cared about him.

 

“You know that’s not an option, but thank you for checking on me.” Yuta patted Sicheng’s shoulder and then straightened his back, walking towards the middle of the room with more confidence r than how he truly felt.

 

His head was spinning and he felt like his knees were about to give at a drop of a hat. The cheery music filled the room and one by one all danseurs started the routine. Yuta started a beat later and he cursed mentally, aware that Director Song was watching his every movement.

 

He quickly willed himself to stop playing around, but it seemed his body wasn’t too keen on following his brain. His limbs felt incredibly heavy and he knew he was horribly off-beat, his jumps looked less than weightless and his twirls awkward. He couldn’t keep up, he was only two minutes into the routine yet Yuta felt like he had been dancing for hours.

 

_I can’t do this._

 

“Stop the music!” One of the choreographers suddenly said, “Yuta, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

 

Yuta stopped, breathless. He looked at Jieun, he watched how her mouth moved yet he couldn’t hear a sound. His ears were ringing and he couldn’t hear a thing.

 

Suddenly, everything blurred and he stumbled back, legs unable to hold him any longer.

 

Sicheng’s face was the only thing he saw before everything went dark.

 

{-}

 

_“Johnny, how odd of you to call me at this hour. Is something the matter?”_

_“Doyoung, what’s Yuta’s surname?”_

_“Eh? Did you call me to ask this? I’m sorry, Seo, but as you can see he is taken, ha-ha. Looking  for his social media?”_

_“No, Doyoung, please, this is important. Is it Nakamoto?”_

_“Y-yeah. Why? Did something happen? You’re kinda freaking me out.”_

_“Taeyong called from the hospital. He’s been brought to the hospital, unconscious. Taeyong told me he fainted, but that’s all he was willing to tell me. Doy-”_

 

{-}

 

Why, oh why, was the hospital’s parking lot so goddamn full at this time of the night? Doyoung willed himself to calm down when he saw how badly his fingers were shaken. He needed to keep a clear head.

 

The moment he spotted a free spot he expertly parked his car. He cursed under his breath when the seatbelt refused to cooperate and, once he was free from the strap, he bolted out of his car.

 

The secretaries at the reception looked everything but impressed when Doyoung showed up at their desk all dishevelled and panting like crazy.

 

“Nakamoto Yuta, room?” He asked, breathlessly.

 

One of the secretaries gave him an annoyed look and went through her files on the computer.

 

“Are you a family member of Mr. Nakamoto?”

 

“N-no, but I’m-”

 

“I’m sorry, sir. Only family are allowed to visit at this hour.” The secretary interrupted him with a soft voice.

 

“You don’t understand, this is an emergency.” Doyoung pleaded, voice shaking. “I _need_ to see him.”

 

And maybe he looked more pitiful than what he felt, because the other secretary, who had been giving Doyoung the stink eye since he appeared at the counter, suddenly took pity of him.

 

“Room 402, second floor. Don’t make a fuss, please,” she said with a tired sigh.

 

Doyoung felt like crying.

 

“Thank you _so_ much,” he managed to choke out before taking off again.

 

The first thing he took notice of when he was done climbing the stairs was a figure sitting outside the room where Yuta was.

 

“Sicheng?” Doyoung carefully asked, tone hushed. Despite the urgency of the situation, he did know he was at a hospital, and that aside from Yuta, there were many other patients trying to rest.

 

Sicheng, who had been sitting still like a statue prior to Doyoung’s arrival, suddenly turned his head towards the older man. The rim of his eyes was rather reddish and his mouth turned in an ugly scowl.

 

“Doyoung?”

 

It didn’t go past Doyoung the icy tone of his name nor the sudden glare thrown his way.

 

The Chinese ballerino got up from his seat and advanced towards the other man. Although Doyoung was taller than Sicheng, he suddenly felt himself shrink under the intensity of his piercing stare.

 

Doyoung was aware Yuta’s friend wasn’t his biggest fan, and usually, he wouldn’t have minded; he cared very little whether other people liked him or not at that point in his life. However, since Sicheng was Yuta’s best friend, he truly wanted to get along with him. Yuta had told him how the Chinese man was his only and closest friend, and if he meant so much to Yuta, Doyoung wanted to be amicable with him.

 

That proved to be almost impossible. No matter how hard Doyoung tried to make the other like him, Sicheng’s glare was tattooed to his eyes whenever the lawyer was around.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“Is Yuta okay? I heard he fainted and I got here as soon as possible. Is he alright?”

 

Sicheng pressed his lips in a thin line and motioned Doyoung to follow him to the floor’s tiny balcony.

 

“Wait, answer me first, Sicheng. How is Yuta?”

 

This time around, Doyoung didn’t cower under Sicheng’s glare. No matter how much the other man hated him, he had the right to know Yuta’s condition.

 

“Just follow me,” was the response. Although Doyoung wanted to speak up, he hadn’t stopped conjuring all sorts of ugly scenarios in his head, after all. He thought the best thing, for now, was to follow the other man outside.

 

The sky was filled with dark, heavy clouds. It was probably going to rain if the barely-there petrichor smell was anything to go by. Yuta hated when it rained, Doyoung recalled. He hoped the rain wouldn’t last long.

 

“He’s stable now,” Sicheng started once he shut the door.

 

Doyoung felt like the air was slowly coming into his lungs. The wall felt cold against Doyoung’s back when he leaned on, suddenly feeling tired.

 

“Thank God,” he breathed out, running a hand through his hair. “What happened?”

 

Sicheng looked at him momentarily, expression blank.

 

“Doyoung, you really have no idea what happened?”

 

The taller man just furrowed his eyebrows, confused. Was it a trick question?

 

“Yuta fainted because he’s been starving,” Sicheng answered when he noticed Doyoung’s confused expression. “I don’t know if you’re really that dense or you don’t even care. I thought since you two like to fuck around so much, you would at least notice the sudden drop in Yuta’s weight.”

 

_What?_

Out of the blue Doyoung recalled asking Yuta about his figure since he was looking a bit on the skinnier side. Yuta had always been on the skinny side, but the moment Doyoung’s fingers could trace the shape of his ribs he started wondering if everything was alright.

 

Yuta had dismissed his worries and had assured him that it was due to the stress of practice, but that once they were done with them he’d be alright. He had looked so sure of himself Doyoung didn’t pry any further. As a matter of fact, Yuta never looked anything other than confident, and Doyoung regarded him as a smart person who knew how to deal with his problems.

 

Even when they were barely getting to know each other, Doyoung sensed no hesitation in Yuta’s advances, ignoring all of the lawyer’s attempt to brush him aside.

 

He was so sure he knew Yuta, Sicheng’s words seemed almost a lie. Yuta would never do something like that, his boy was already perfect, why would he starve himself?

 

And worse, how come Doyoung hadn’t realised?

 

“I take it by your expression you really didn’t know. Of course, as long as Yuta stays all pretty and skinny it’s not like you care about him.”

 

Sicheng’s sudden remark startled him.

 

_What?_

 

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know I care deeply for Yuta. Why would I be here otherwise, for God’s sake? I almost crashed on the way here.”

 

Doyoung didn’t know the Chinese ballerino’s hatred for him went as far as believing he didn’t really care about Yuta. He had always made sure to let Yuta know he cherished him and adored him, that he would give the world to him if he could, that he lov-

 

“If you cared enough you would have known he has been losing weight like crazy.” Sicheng spat out, nostrils flaring.

 

Guilt was an awful emotion, Doyoung suddenly thought when he felt it twisting his guts. It was cold and uncomfortable and made you feel like crying.

 

“Yes, you’re right. I should’ve paid more attention to him, I have no excuse for that, but Yuta told me it was nothing and I decided to believe him.”

 

Sicheng’s sudden laugh threw Doyoung off. It sounded rather hysterical and ugly, it didn’t sit well with someone as quiet as the danseur.

 

“Don’t make me laugh, Doyoung. God, you’re so infuriating, playing the victim when really you know nothing. Do you even know him, Doyoung? Do you really know Yuta?”

 

The lawyer was starting to lose his patience. He had been rather calm about all the accusations but he couldn’t let go of that simple question. If he knew Yuta? He hadn’t been with the younger for almost a year to learn nothing about him.

 

“Sicheng you might be his best friends but he’s been with me for almost a year, and if you think that-”

 

“Did you know that Yuta speaks three languages? Not only Japanese and Korean but also Mandarin,” Sicheng cut him off. Doyoung’s perplexed face was all it took for Sicheng to keep going. “You didn’t, right? He learnt it so he could speak with me, so I wouldn’t feel lonely when I missed my home. He’s been studying English as well and he’s becoming proficient quite fast.”

 

“I didn’t know that,” Doyoung quietly conceded, ears burning.

 

“Do you know his favourite ballet? The name of his dog? Did you even know he has a dog? That he has two sisters? What his favourite movie is? What he misses most of Japan? His favourite colour?”

 

The ugly truth was, Doyoung didn’t know. He couldn’t answer any of those questions. And the void that Sicheng’s words had carefully opened at the beginning of their conversation only widened, leaving traces of shame and remorse in the aftermath.

 

He tried desperately to remember the times Yuta had talked about himself, the times Doyoung had asked about his preferences. However, the images replaying in his mind were like a silent movie, every time Yuta spoke all he could see was his smile, his teeth, his eyes crinkling; but they were all soundless memories, devoid of Yuta’s voice, devoid of Yuta’s words.

 

Had Doyoung really never paid attention to Yuta?

 

“You might know how he looks naked, the number of moles in his body and his favourite brand of clothing, but the truth is, you don’t know him, Doyoung. You don’t know Yuta because you never cared to ask about _him_ , as a person. You were interested only in him as your fuckboy.”

 

Doyoung saw red, only red when he stepped closer. Red. When he grabbed Sicheng by the collar. Red. When he felt how Sicheng was looking right back at him with fire in his eyes. Red.

 

“I’m done with your stupid accusations, Sicheng. You don’t how I feel about him.”

 

“Neither does Yuta! He doesn’t think you care about him as anything more than your fuck buddy. What? Thought that buying him pretty clothes and taking him out to expensive restaurants was enough to show that you cared? The only right thing you did was show up to his performances. The _only_ thing.”

 

“You don’t know any-”

 

“Have you ever told Yuta something other than he is pretty? Have you told him how talented he is? How smart he is? How charismatic he is? How kind he is? Have you ever complimented him on other than his looks?”

 

Doyoung couldn’t even think straight and for a moment he loosened his hold on Sicheng’s collar, eyes momentarily flicking to the side.

 

He had, right? Yuta was perfect, God, he was everything Doyoung wanted. Not only because his looks were other-worldly, but also because he was funny and crazy talented, witty and absolutely selfless. Why, then, why couldn’t Doyoung think of a moment in which he had told Yuta so?

 

“Look me in the fucking eyes when I’m talking to you, Kim Doyoung,” Sicheng’s abrupt tone made Doyoung snap his eyes back to him.

 

He could see himself reflected in his lover’s best friend eyes and he didn’t like what he saw back.

 

It was the figure of a man who had never told the person he loved the most how he felt. A man who had, word after word, left his lover to believe he was nothing other than attractive.

 

And how much he hated that pathetic man that looked back at him from Sicheng’s dark eyes.

 

“That’s what I thought,” Sicheng said, disgust dripping off his voice when he noticed the truth dawning on Doyoung. “I thought you were fine at first, you made Yuta smile and that was all that mattered. But then? Yuta started looking for assurance in me because it seemed his partner was fucking useless at validating him. And I thought, ‘God, what a fucking prick.’ Truth is, you don’t deserve my friend. You’ve never had.”

 

Doyoung let go of Sicheng’s collar and took a step back, suddenly dizzy.

 

 _God,_ he thought, feeling how his throat constricted.

 

“You may not know it, Doyoung. But you’re the worst thing that has happened to Yuta since he came to Korea.”

 

_What have I done?_

 

{-}

 

It was still raining, Yuta bitterly noticed. From his place on the hospital bed, he could see the heavy clouds covering the sky, fat water drops falling down, it sounded like a constant beating against the window.

 

The sound of the door opening was what made Yuta finally look away from the window.

 

“Sicheng,” Yuta greeted, smiling. His friend smiled as well, relieved.

 

“How are you feeling?” the Chinese man asked, taking a seat on the edge of Yuta’s bed. “Want me to call the nurse?”

 

Yuta shook his head.

 

“He came a little ago, checked my vital signs and nagged at me for not eating the pudding. In my defence, it looked absolutely disgusting,” he huffed.

 

Sicheng let out a small laugh, relief blossoming in his chest from seeing his friend in a better condition.

 

“I can only imagine.”

 

“Sicheng,” Yuta suddenly called. “I’m sorry, about everything, I should have-”

 

“No,” Sicheng cut him off softly, taking Yuta’s hand into his own,”don’t apologize. I swear if you do that I’m gonna start crying again,” he laughed humorlessly. “I shouldn’t have left you alone, either. Just-” he squeezed his friend’s hand and looked down, “don’t ever scare me like that again. Promise?”

 

Yuta felt his throat closing, the knot he had tried so hard to swallow down a couple of minutes ago coming afloat once again. He too squeezed Sicheng’s hand and nodded, not trusting himself to say a word. He knew Sicheng was aware of how shitty he felt and he was glad the other had stopped him from talking out loud.

 

“Cool,” Sicheng said, smiling affectionately and wiping away some tears that escaped from Yuta’s eyes. “No more crying, okay? I’ve filled yours and my quota for the whole year, so let’s not cry anymore. Besides, I said horrible things to you. I’m sorry, Yuta. When you needed me the most I let you down and that is something I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for. You know I didn’t mean any of those things, right?”

 

“It’s fine, Sicheng. Really, you told me what I needed to hear and I was deaf enough not to listen to you.”

 

“Still, I shouldn’t have said that. I love you, Yuta. You know I care about you, a lot.”

 

“And I love you, Sicheng, even when you’re throwing shade at me.”

 

Sicheng just laughed and Yuta laughed as well, relief washing all over his body. They were okay, and the sudden realisation that everything between Sicheng and him could back to normal so easily managed to quell down the ball of anxiety that had been sitting in his stomach since he woke up.

 

“Uhm,” Sicheng cleared his throat. “He’s still outside. He wants to talk to you. I threatened to call security on him and the bastard just told me he didn’t give a shit so…”

 

Yuta’s heart skipped a beat. Talking to Doyoung was something he completely dreaded at the moment.

 

“I can call security, if you want me to, you know that,” Sicheng said when he sensed Yuta’s hand go rigid. “You know what? I can kick his skinny ass myself, so if-”

 

“It’s fine, Sicheng. Thanks for always worrying about me.”

 

The Chinese danseur just sent a worried look at his friend.

 

“You’re afraid but you want to talk to him, right?”

 

Yuta nodded, thankful he didn’t have to voice out his thoughts. One thing was thinking about it, other completely different was saying it out loud.

 

“Alright, then.” Sicheng eyed him for a moment as if assessing his current state. Yuta wasn’t sure what he saw, but he must have been content enough since he got up and nodded.

 

“Scream if you need me,” he winked at the other.

 

Yuta just laughed, grateful at Sicheng’s attempts to keep things light-hearted when everything was but.

 

The moment he closed the door, Sicheng took every piece of fake composure Yuta had gathered since his friend had told him about his confrontation with Doyoung. God, his hand were shaking, he was so afraid of meeting him.

 

He didn’t want Doyoung to see him in such a vulnerable state, he didn’t want to see the lawyer’s eyes full of pity, his handsome face with a worried expression.

 

More than anything, he was afraid of telling Doyoung what he thought, he was afraid of telling him how he had realised how toxic it was for Yuta to be in a relationship with Doyoung. All the time alone in the room had given Yuta the space he needed to reflect on his current love life.

 

Yuta deserved to be loved, to be cherished. He had not minded to give himself completely without being given something back. He had come with terms with the fact that it was just in his nature, to love passionately, abrasively even, only to be turned into ashes afterwards.

 

Yuta knew Doyoung didn’t mean to, knew he liked him and cared for him. It wasn’t enough, he had realised. It wasn’t enough because it wasn’t fair to Yuta. Loving Doyoung was easy but painful, and it bruised Yuta in a way he couldn’t conceal. Doyoung had never looked carefully even though all the signs were there.

 

It had been okay, really. Yuta was happy as long as Doyoung acknowledged his existence. It was enough. Yuta had believed so vehemently.

 

Clearly, it wasn’t, Yuta mused, watching the IV bag slowly dripping. All Doyoung had done was cut him deep only to leave him wide open.

 

“Yuta?”

 

Oh.

 

Oh, how much had Yuta missed his voice.

 

“Doyoung,” he whispered, trying to sit as straight as possible in his current position.

 

“Yuta,” Doyoung repeated, closing the door behind him and taking a step closer to him. “Yuta, how are you feeling?” he asked carefully, standing awkwardly at the side of Yuta’s bed.

 

“Been better, to be honest,” Yuta joked, patting the empty space on the bed to let Doyoung know it was okay to sit next to him. The taller man bit his lower lip and Yuta could see his inner struggle. Just when he was about to voice out again it was okay to sit next to him, Doyoung took another step and sat softly on the bed.

 

Yuta took in his face, his dark bags under his eyes. His usual glowing face had been reduced to a dull version of it and his forehead was littered with wrinkles. He didn’t like this version of Doyoung, yet Yuta felt a little spark of happiness at knowing he was worried about Yuta.

 

Was Yuta a bad person for thinking like that? He couldn’t tell anymore.

 

“I-” Doyoung started, looking away from Yuta’s arm that was connected to the IV as soon as he saw it. “I’m happy you’re better,” he said. “And, I-”

 

Yuta’s eyebrows shot up when he saw how Doyoung covered his face with his hands, muffling noises coming from behind them.

 

“D-doyoung?” Yuta called him, reaching out his hand.

 

“I was so fucking worried,” Doyoung managed to say, removing his hands from his face. “God, Yuta, I was so fucking scared when Johnny called me and told me you fainted, and then Sicheng said all those things about me, about how fucking awful I was to you, and it was awful b-because it was true, God, how can I have done this to you, I don’t deserve you, look at you, this is all my fault I s-should have told you how fucking much I love you I-”

 

And then Yuta watched speechless as Doyoung broke down in front of him, mumbling incoherently.

 

What was that?

 

Had Doyoung said...he loved Yuta?

 

“I’m so pathetic, you’re the one that hurt the most yet I’m here crying my eyes out God, I’m so sorry, Yuta, I don’t even want you to forgive me because I don’t deserve it but I love you so much, and I-”

 

Doyoung stopped for a moment to take a deep breath and sniffled loudly. All throughout his speech, he hadn’t looked at Yuta. His eyes were fixed on his hands as if he couldn’t believe the situation. Suddenly he raised his eyes, and Yuta’s breath hitched at how completely empty they looked.

 

The lawyer took another deep breath and took Yuta’s hands between his.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

And that was all it took for Yuta to start crying as well, not as desperately as Doyoung had, but silently, tears slowly rolling down his sunken cheeks.

 

“And I know I never told you this, and I know it’s too late, but I’ll die if I don’t say this,” Doyoung continued, bringing Yuta’s hands to his lips and lovingly kissing his knuckles.

 

“I love you, Yuta. I was entirely yours the moment you approached me, the very image of confidence. I was yours the moment you smiled at me, the moment you spoke to me and introduced yourself. And from then on all I ever did was fall for you even more and more, with every little thing you showed me about yourself. I don’t love you just because of how you look, I love you because I’ve never met anyone as full of life, as passionate as you. And it’s a sin that you spent all this time with me without being aware that I’d do absolutely anything for you.”

 

Yuta’s sudden tears blurred his vision momentarily, Doyoung’s face but a distorted photo he knew by heart.

 

“And believe me, I will never forgive myself for not being better for you, I just...I don’t know, I thought it was obvious how in love I was with you. Obviously, I was mistaken. I should have treated you better. And everything I’m saying now sounds like excuses, but they are not. I’m not making excuses. I don’t deserve you, Yuta, God, I don’t, but please, please, I’m begging, give me another chance to set things right.”

 

The rain kept pouring outside, the heavy droplets creating a sound blanket that fell all over the hospital, the unmistakable smell of rain slipping through the sturdy walls, through the thick windows. However, the only sound that Yuta could hear at the moment was Doyoung’s voice, broken, desperate; the only thing he could smell was Doyoung’s cologne that clung persistently on the air.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he continued, big eyes blinking away the last traces of tears.

 

Yuta didn’t say anything, just let Doyoung hold his hand and pour his heart out. He swore his heart had never beaten so fast in his life, and he was terrified it would leap out of his chest at any moment.

 

Suddenly, he felt dizzy, and he guessed it had nothing to do with his current condition and everything to do with the fact that he had heard Doyoung said what he had yearned to hear for so long.

 

Oh, what a bittersweet moment it was. Yuta should have felt ecstatic, there was nothing more he had wanted than to hear Doyoung say that he also loved Yuta, to hear that he too was in love with the other.

 

Now, however, instead of the happy bubbles of love exploding in his chest, that Yuta had been sure would explode the moment he heard those three words, were flat, dead inside his stomach.

 

“I’m leaving,” was all he said.

 

Because even if Doyoung was sorry, even he truly didn’t mean to make Yuta crumble down like that, even if Yuta really believed Doyoung loved him, it was too late.

 

The reality of the lengths he was willing to go just for the person he loved was overwhelming. There was no self-love in all Yuta had done, and he truly didn’t believe in that bullshit that said that you have to learn to love yourself before loving another person; people can love without loving themselves. But loving someone and being ripped apart in the process wasn’t how it should go, it was not healthy.

 

And although Yuta wanted nothing more than to throw himself to Doyoung’s arms, to reassure him that it was okay, that he was forgiven, that Yuta would always love him no matter what, he remained in his hospital bed. There would be no future for them if Yuta did any of those things.

 

“I’m leaving for England next month,” he continued. “I’ve been offered a scholarship at The Royal Ballet, and I said yes.”

 

Doyoung felt all the air punched out of his lungs.

 

_What?_

 

“And...you never told me this, why?” he asked, imperceptibly tightening his hold on Yuta’s hands.

 

“I thought you didn’t love me, and it would hurt me too much to say goodbye knowing you would easily move on, easily find yourself a replacement.”

 

The tears that had momentarily dried on Doyoung’s eyes came full force, the weight of Yuta’s words pressing down uncomfortably on Doyoung’s heart, squeezing it painfully.

 

“Yuta, I-”

 

“Doyoung, I believe you,” Yuta cut him off. “I believe you, and I forgive you. You’ve always been too kind to intentionally hurt someone.” He smiled half-heartedly and laughed a little to himself, a private joke Doyoung completely missed.

 

“I...Doyoung you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear those words, how many sleepless nights I spent in your arms wondering if the day would come when you too, would look at me with love in your eyes.”

 

“I’m very much in love with you, Doyoung, I would give my everything to you if you asked. I gave my everything to you,” Yuta corrected himself. He saw Doyoung swallow the lump in his throat, his long fingers prodding softly at his eyes to wipe away the tears.

 

“But that’s not true love now, is it?” He laughed a choked and humourless laugh.

 

Doyoung could feel his throat constricting and his heart slowly coming to a stop. Was it even possible? To continue living without feeling your own heartbeat?

 

“I need to leave, I need to be away from you, at least for now. Because it terrifies me, how much I’m willing to do for you, how naturally I put myself below you. I don’t deserve it, and you don’t deserve it either.”

 

Yuta didn’t mention the fact that he was very much at risk of losing his scholarship  for what had happened. He wouldn’t need to leave for another month, so he prayed he could get back on his feet, if not completely recovered, at least enough not to be kicked out of a team he wasn’t even part of yet.

 

“Nothing I say will make you stay,“ Doyoung stated as he watched the resolution swirling in Yuta’s tired eyes. “Not even if I promise you the moon.”

 

Yuta cracked a small smile, toes curling under his bedsheets. Because although he was acting all brave in front of Doyoung, saying how he is going to leave, to leave him, the fact is that he just wanted to stay with him. He didn’t think there was any other place better for him than Doyoung’s embrace. He was afraid if Doyoung pushes a bit more, he would give in.

 

_Please don’t beg me to stay. I’m still not strong enough._

And maybe despite seeing how determined Yuta was, Doyoung too, knew all he needed to keep Yuta was a push. And knowledge is power, Doyoung mused, watching how intently Yuta was trying to keep himself in check.

 

And he understood what Yuta said when he confessed he was terrified of the power he had conferred to Doyoung. Now he was terrified as well, knowing he could change Yuta’s mind if he begged a little.

 

He saw the desperation in Yuta’s eyes, and even if Doyoung didn’t want him to leave, he couldn't’ find it in himself to deny the opportunity to Yuta to heal properly.

 

“I’ll miss you,” was what he said. “And you’re a fool if you think anybody could ever even come close to you. You’re irreplaceable in my heart, Yuta, don’t you ever forget that. I love you.”

 

Yuta nodded, too afraid to speak, too afraid to continue crying.

 

He slowly raised his arm and cupped Doyoung’s cheeks, beckoning him to move closer to Yuta. The older understood, leaning over Yuta’s bed. He also cupped Yuta’s cheeks in his large palms and pressed their foreheads together.

 

With his eyes closed, he softly whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m truly am.”

 

“Shush,” Yuta whispered back, eyes just as close. “I love you,” he confessed, voice wavering.

 

“I love you,” Doyoung answered back.

 

And Doyoung didn’t know kisses could be so bittersweet, could be so heart-wrenching, could be so incredible, could be so cruel, could be so kind.

 

He tasted all those flavours mixed in Yuta’s wet lips, and he hoped he would never have to do it again.

 

 

 

{-}

 

"Yuta, there's someone who wants to see you. A friend from Korea, he said. Rings a bell?"

  
The sudden increase in his heart rhythm might have given away the fact that indeed, it did ring a bell. But, it couldn't be, right?

  
"Did he tell you his name?" Yuta bravely asked, masking his internal whirlwind with a nonchalant voice. 

  
Rena shook her head.

  
"Not really, he's rather tall?" She offered.

  
Oh, how much did Yuta love that Doyoung towered almost over everyone else when they went out together, how he loved standing ever so slightly on his toes to kiss Doyoung's thin lips.

  
"Alright, I'll go see who it is. Thanks, Rena."

  
The shorter girl just waved her hand, indicating it was no problem.

  
The Japanese male was afraid of getting his hopes high, but he guessed this time around he was kind of entitled. Yuta didn't have many friends back in Korea, or at least one that certainly knew where Yuta was now, or that actually cared. 

  
Taking one look at himself in the mirror, Yuta took his bag and exited the practice room, heart widely beating against his ribcage.

  
Suddenly, the short walk from the practice room to the hall seemed incredibly far despite Yuta walking with long strides. Had the distance between the two places always been so wide?

  
He realised his hand was trembling when he opened the door, hand tightly wrapped around the doorknob. 

  
"Yuta."

  
The danseur's heart that threatened to fly out of his chest suddenly fell silent.

  
"Johnny?" Yuta tried to mask his bitter disappointment with a bright smile. "What are you doing here?"

  
The tall man smile widely, opening his arms to give the other male a tight hug.

  
"It's so nice to see you!" He said, genuine excitement dripping from his voice. 

  
At the tone, Yuta couldn't find it in himself to be mad. He accepted the hug and, surprising himself, let out a joyful laugh.

  
"Likewise," Yuta was glad his voice conveyed his sincerity. Despite everything, it was nice to see a familiar face.

  
"I came for a work trip, first time visiting London," Johnny explained, releasing Yuta. "And I remembered you transferred to the Royal Ballet. When I walked past the auditorium I saw your face in the promotional poster and told myself I had to make some time to pay you a visit."

  
Yuta felt touched. Even after everything that had happened, Johnny had spared time from his probably busy schedule to check on him.

  
"Ah, that's great. You shouldn't have, but I'm glad you came. It's nice seeing you."

  
  
Johnny smiled, satisfied.

 

“Did you, uhm, did you come alone?”

 

If the lawyer understood Yuta’s hidden question, at least he was kind enough to pretend he hadn’t. Johnny smiled almost apologetically at him and the ballerino knows he wasn’t as subtle as he would have liked.

 

“I came with Taeyong only, he had always wanted to visit London. He asked me to tell you how much he liked the play and how amazing you were.”

 

Taeyong, the doctor from the hospital, Yuta recalled. Johnny’s husband and the one that had informed him Yuta had been admitted to the ward six months ago.

 

“He has some errands to run, he was really sorry he couldn’t see you.”

 

Yuta shook his head and smiled at the man in front of him.

 

“That’s really sweet of him, I’m happy he enjoyed the play.”

 

Johnny beamed, and it reminded Yuta why he liked the other man so much. It had been like that the night they met, Johnny had been full of gentle smiles and warm words.

 

“I’m glad you’re looking better, Yuta. You look better than you have ever looked,” Johnny confessed softly, and Yuta thought that if any one other than the lawyer would have said those words they would have rubbed him the wrong way.

 

Yuta grinned, full teeth on display. He felt grateful and something warm started simmering inside of him.

 

“Thank you, Johnny. I feel better than I’ve felt in a while.”

 

And it was just the raw truth. He was completely devoted to his career and he had learnt so much in the Royal Ballet the teachers, albeit strict and unforgiving, were amazing. They knew what each student needed to release their full potential, they accommodated themselves to their student's styles.

 

However, he had never felt so alone either.

 

 

{-}

 

Yuta was nervous. Incredibly so.

 

It had been a while since he had last gone out with somebody and it was safe to say he felt out of practice. Hell, it had been a while since he had last met up with someone other than Sicheng. Maybe Johnny, but that had been almost four months ago.

 

Fortunately, the designated bar for the date wasn’t too intimate, quite on the contrary, it was one of the busiest bars downtown. Knowing there would be people all around, that he could just get up and leave the moment he felt uncomfortable was a relief.

 

It was Thursday, yet the bar was almost full. Yuta had never really gone there before, and he didn’t want to imagine how the bar would look in a full night. According to the bartender, that day night was a “calm night”. Well, damn.

The lights were dim and the soft R&B ballads pulsating through the speakers gave the whole a place a sense of tranquility. It was a bit crowded but it didn’t actually felt like that since the place was so large. Yuta was grateful for the comforting atmosphere, after all, he didn’t want to feel suffocated and run away before even meeting his date.

 

“Hey.”

 

The soft greeting brought Yuta out of his stupor, who turned his head and regarded the other man with a smile.

 

“Hey,” he greeted back. “I already ordered us a drink if that’s alright with you.”

 

The other man just took a seat next to Yuta and nodded, eyes crinkling when he smiled.

 

“That’s fine. I don’t think anybody else knows my taste as much as you do, Yuta.”

 

Yuta hummed, agreeing.

 

“That’s right,” he said, heart vibrating with something akin to comfort. “Doyoung.”

 

This time around, when Doyoung tucked Yuta’s hair behind his ear, his heart didn’t feel like leaping out of his chest. It didn’t feel like his skin was setting on fire.

 

This time around, his heart felt warm like embers left burning from the previous night, the warm heat soothing rather than scalding.

 

This time around, it felt _right_.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, first of all I want to thank my incredible beta, Eden!! She's always going out of her way for me and my stories!! I swear, this is readable thanks to her more than capable hands. Also, she helped me a lot with the ending~ Love you, girl!
> 
> I hope that despite the dark tone you enjoyed this story! It was a pain to write this and I can't believe my first contribution to the doyu tag is angst WHAT THE HELL. I promise I'll write some fluffy doyu in the future to make up for this!
> 
> Please, if you liked (or not lmao) my story leave me some kudos and a comment telling me your thoughts on the story! 
> 
> Have a wonderful day~


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